


Just Once a Year

by Aris_Silverfin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Fatlock, Gen, M/M, Over Eating, belly stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris_Silverfin/pseuds/Aris_Silverfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt: Sherlock and John both eat and drink way too much for Christmas dinner.</p><p>Just some cute lovely fluff. Maybe a touch of understated pining if you read it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Once a Year

"Happy Christmas from the Yard," said Lestrade cheerily, thrusting a large turkey and a covered mixing bowl into John's arms, "And here's the chestnut stuffing. Wife's old recipe. You'll love it."

"Oh, thanks, but you didn't have to-"

"I know, but you and Sherlock do so much for us, least we could do," continued Greg, "Look I'd best be off, have a nice holiday."

"Er, you too," said John, smiling and then stepping back inside with a sigh. A whole turkey? Just for the two of them? On top of everything else? He hauled the bird up to put it in the refrigerator along with the stuffing, having to cram it between a small glazed ham (a gift from a client), a gigantic bowl of bread gravy(from Mrs. H), several containers of sprouts, parsnips, and carrots(brought over by Molly with Sherlock's order of toes), and the huge pudding that had apparently been sent over by one of Mycroft's team. Apparently all of London was trying to feed them, thought John with a snort. He sincerely hoped Sherlock would be helping out. There was no way he could manage this lot on his own. Maybe they should donate it? But that seemed somehow ungrateful. And it was likely to spoil if it wasn't eaten tomorrow.

John sighed, and went to look up the best way to cook a turkey.

***  
There was a lot of food. The kitchen table was creaking and John was worried about just how sturdy the old thing was and what Mrs. Hudson would say if they asked for a new one. Still, it certainly looked good. The turkey was perfectly golden, garnished with little sausages in bacon blankets. The other offerings had also been cooked, warmed and set out. John uncorked a bottle of merlot he had gotten from Sarah at work and poured two glasses, he stood sipping it thoughtfully, then nodded and returned to the living room. He had to smile as he caught sight of Sherlock, slumped on the sofa as always and frowning as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

"I thought even the great Sherlock Holmes would take a break from work on Christmas," said John, stepping over and holding out the other glass, "Come on. Just one night of not working."

Sherlock sniffed but then apparently smelled the wine and looked up from his laptop.

"I might as well... most of these are so inane that I could solve them without leaving the flat. No murders or mysterious disappearances," said Sherlock, pouting slightly.

"Maybe if you're good Father Christmas will bring you a triple homicide," John chuckled. Sherlock rolled his eyes but accepted the wine, taking a thoughtful sip as he stood and followed Sherlock back into the kitchen. The detective stopped, looking stunned at the feast before him.

"Did you... prepare all of this?" he asked, sounding impressed.

John almost said yes but then decided honesty was best. "No, no. We've had people shoving food at us for the past week. I just warmed it up. Though I did cook the turkey." John nodded at the bird with a note of pride in his voice.

Sherlock let out a low chuckle, then sat behind a plate. He seemed unsure of how to start.

John smiled, downed the last of his glass and then refilled it before scooping up a heaping mound of roasted potatoes, turkey, ham, veg, and bread sauce before tucking in.

"Merry Christmas," he said through a happy mouthful, raising his glass.

Sherlock smiled, rather shyly and touched his glass to John's. "And a happy new year."

Then he too loaded up his plate.

The food was excellent to say the least, and both men ate heartily, John pressed Sherlock to take seconds as he loaded up his own plate again.

"I'm not going to eat all this by myself," he laughed.

"John, even with both of us eating there will be food left over," Sherlock answered, though he too chuckled, his face growing flushed with drink. They had quickly finished the first bottle and were now making spirited progress on the second.

"Oi. Shut up and eat," was all John offered in reply.

Both men were shifting and sighing slightly at the end of their second plate. Then John suggested they take a third each to make sure they thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Sherlock complied, smiling and chuckling softly to himself as he caught sight of John's full belly rounding out underneath his jumper.

The detective accepted his plate of thirds with a hum. Halfway through he started squirming and had to unbutton his trousers to finish. He burped, flushing slightly, but John only giggled and clapped him on the back, which Sherlock rather liked.

Then their plates were once again empty and both men leaned back, muffling burps and clutching gurgling middles. Sherlock hiccuped.

"I don't think I've ever eaten this much," he said with wonderment, prodding at his middle. It was bloated and round, pushing out against his buttons and practically making them scream.

John chuckled and flopped his hand over dazedly, ending up patting Sherlock on the thigh. His stomach too was stuffed and starting to twinge but-"We still have dessert," he murmured. He hauled himself from his chair with a groan and then went to fetch it.

"Oh... I don't know if I-hurp- can..." Sherlock grunted, though his eyes lit up as they fell on the dish in John's hands. "Is that?"

"Christmas pudding, yeah," slurred John, smiling at the look on Sherlock's face. "Mycroft sent it over. Said it was your mum's recipe."

Sherlock wet his lips and held over his plate. "Gimme a big piece, then."

"Manners," grunted John, but he was chuckling. He cute Sherlock nearly a fourth of the pudding. The detective dove into it as if there were no tomorrow, groaning and humming with pleasure as he stuffed it down. John grinned, wavering slightly. He cut himself a slightly more reasonable piece and tucked in. Oh... that was nice.

John ate methodically, pointedly ignoring the tightness in his stomach and the pleading gurgles it emited as he shoved down bite after bite. Sherlock groaned, collapsing back, his eyes bleary with fullness and drinking. The detective's pale stomach was peeking between the buttons now, looking round and impossibly full. John cut him another slice and Sherlock stared at it with an odd whine.

"S'okay. S'Christmas," John reminded him. Sherlock nodded and picked up the plate, gasping as he cleared it again. He let out a monstrous belch and moaned, rubbing his middle. John echoed him, then slouched, the fork falling from his fingers. He looked over at Sherlock and giggled.

"Christ, look at us!"

Sherlock groaned. "I-hurp-can't believe I ate all... ooohh..."

"Did though," John pointed out with another chuckle, reaching over to prod at the man's belly. Sherlock smiled, but then gave John a steady look as he reached over to rub at John's bejumpered belly.

"Jus' because it's Christmas," he said softly, "Feels... nice."

"Course," agreed John, reaching over to rub Sherlock's in kind, "Just because it's Christmas."

The two sat in contented overstuffed quiet for a time, easing each other's discomfort with cautious fingers. Finally John felt himself nodding off... and able to move again. He stood. Sherlock looked up with a bit of a start and withdrew his hand. John smiled, then lumbered off to bed, hand on round swollen belly. They each lay back in their own beds, burping and hiccuping, feeling the weight on their middles grow warm and haul them swiftly off to sleep. If only it could be Christmas every day.


End file.
